


Talisman

by LostinFic



Series: Any David Tennant character x Any Billie Piper character [14]
Category: Fright Night (2011), Spirit Trap (2005), The Spirit Trap
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Ghosts, Some hurt/comfort, Supernatural Elements, Teninch Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7343152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my teninch fic bingo card: tattoo shop</p>
<p>Peter is getting a real tattoo, but it’s not just for aesthetic reasons, and only Jenny can provide the special kind he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talisman

**Author's Note:**

> Synopsis of The Spirit Trap: In London, four students have a call from the student accommodation office of the local university offering lodging in an old house. The psychic Jenny, the graphic design student Nick, and the couple of lovers/drug dealers Tom and Adele are welcomed by the weird Tina. Nick fixes a spirit clock, and soon Jenny sees the crimes that happened in the house in the past, when two lovers died. (source: IMDB)

The Black Dahlia Tattoo parlour was exactly as one would expect: 50′s furniture and various skull-shaped accessories, even a Jolly Roger flag above the entrance. And of course, bouquets of its namesake flower. Given the kitsch décor of his own Vegas penthouse, Peter had no right to complain.  

 

A gangly boy with stretched ear lobes asked him to wait whilst he fetched the tattooist. Peter sat on a red vinyl banquette, tapping his foot along to _Blitzkrieg Bop._  On the walls, amongst tattoo designs and pin-up girl posters, he noticed a framed diploma: 

_Jenny Damon_

_Master of Fine Arts_

_University of Westminster_

Jenny, such a common name for an uncommon girl if rumours were true. He had come here specifically for her. She came highly recommended in certain circles. Peter wanted a tattoo, not the rub-on kind— the permanent kind. And not just for aesthetic reasons. He needed a talisman, something to protect him. If his vampire hunter acquaintances were to be believed, this Jenny could provide one for him.

 

If the place looked exactly as expected, the young woman, however, did not. Red velvet curtains parted and in came a ponytailed blond in a yellow blouse. She had no tattoos that he could see, but he wouldn’t mind searching for one under her clothes. She finished her Greek yogurt cup and smiled at him.

 “Hi! Mr. Vincent, what can I do for you today?” she asked, her voice just an octave under child-like.

“Well, Jenny, you see I’m a, shall we say, a tattoo _virgin_ and I want my first time to be extra special.”

Jenny giggled and bit the inside of her cheek to regain a professional countenance. “Okay, well, come with me. We’ll talk about the kind of design you want… and don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

 

Peter followed her, laughing, to the back of the shop. They crossed a room where needles buzzed over clients’ skin and reached a quieter area.

“Tea?” Jenny offered.

“Got anything stronger, lass?”

“I’m afraid it’s shop policy that both tattooist _and_ client must be sober. One too many bloke threatened to sue the place after getting his ex’s name tattooed on his chest.”

 

Peter leaned against the kitchenette counter, thumbs hooked in the belt hoops of his leather pants. Whilst she prepared two cups, Jenny described the tattooing process. He nodded along, interjecting a flirty quip here and there.

 

She placed the steaming cups on a small table already prepared with pen, transfer paper and art books. They sat down face to face. Jenny stroked a thumb over the fused-glass pendant she wore and narrowed her eyes at him.

“But you’re not here for a regular tattoo. Isn’t that right, Mr. Vincent?”

He gulped. “Well, I— I heard you do special tattoos.”

“I do.” She touched the pendant to her lips. “I see…”

“You see what?”

In a whisper, she asked: “What do you need protection from?”

Peter hunched his back and fidgeted with his rings. He could not bring himself to say it out loud. Discussing vampires online with like-minded people was all well and good, but telling someone in person other than Charley was a different matter. He sipped the black tea, buying some time to figure out the best way to phrase this without completely embarrassing himself.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I’ve heard it all.”

He snorted. “Vampires. I need protection from bloody vampires.”

With a stern face, he held her gaze, defying her to laugh. She did anyway, and a good laugh at that. Insulted, Peter sprang up and turned on his heels to leave.

“Wait!” she called. “I’m sorry, I was just laughing at your dad’s joke.”

Peter froze. A shiver chilled his spine. His heart started beating faster, increasing to a deafening drum in his ears. He turned back to face her. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Your father, Rob, he said—“

“My dad wouldn’t joke about vampires. He was killed by a fucking vampire.”  Peter’s cheeks flushed with anger.

Jenny looked to his right for a moment then nodded. “He says that you killed the one who murdered him and your mother. Now they’re free to laugh.”

Peter gaped at her.

“I’m sorry,” Jenny said. “I thought you knew about my… ability.”

Peter dropped down on a chair, wide eyes staring in the middle distance, stunned by disbelief. She waited patiently for him to process all that information. 

If vampires were real, why not ghosts too, he wondered.

 

“What else does he say?” Peter murmured.

She looked to his right again, clasping the pendant around her neck.

“He says he’d prefer if you’d kept the name Herbert McHoolihee. You were named after your gramps.”

Peter laughed weakly.  He was not quite ready to believe her yet, who knew what a quick _Google_ search of his name revealed. He had met his fair share of charlatans in Las Vegas.

“He regrets that he couldn’t be there for you when you were growing up,” Jenny continued. “He’s proud of you, that you saved people… he says: ‘you did well, Pumpkin’.”

At the sound of his childhood nickname, tears rose in Peter’s black-rimmed eyes.

 Growing up an orphan, he never had it easy. Not a day would pass without asking some deity for a message from the great beyond. It’s how he had become interested in esotericism and magic in the first place. Now he knew it was mostly bullshit, but “Pumpkin”… His heart ached to hear the word in his father’s voice. He looked to his right, wishing he could see what Jenny had. Alas, there was nothing but air.  

 

 Taking a deep breath, Peter ran his hands down his face. “Thank you, Jenny.”

His hands shook from emotion, and, this time, Jenny obliged when he asked for something stronger. In silence, they drank their teas spiked with rum.

 

 Jenny left to answer a phone call, and by the time she came back, he was ready to get on with the choice of tattoo. She showed him a book of symbols they could use for inspiration. As they leafed through it, she made him talk about that fateful night when he had witnessed the murder of his parents by a vampire. She squeezed his hand when he choked up on emotions, and she held it for the rest of his story.

 

“After that, I started getting into magic and illusions… the more I could trick people into believing things that weren’t real, the more I could believe I’d been tricked myself. I was in denial of what had really happened… You must think I’m a coward.”

“No! I understand.”

“Do you?”

She smoothed her hair behind her ears, steeling herself for her own revelation. “My mum, she was a medium. Talked of nothing but spirits and ghosts all the time. It’s why my father left her. She said I had that power too. I wouldn’t believe her… I preferred to think she was crazy, you know. Sometimes, I heard things or I had dreams… and then one day, I couldn’t deny it anymore.”

It was his turn to squeeze her hands. They looked into each other’s eyes, sensing a connection. Jenny too had known the devastation of one’s world and beliefs crumbling to dust.

“And now you believe in all of it.” Peter summed up.

“I’ve embraced it.”

He stroked her knuckles with a sad smile. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that… I’m still too afraid.”

“I still am too,” she confessed.

Peter felt like an anvil had been lifted off his heart. A weight he had not realized he was carrying until now. He had told his story, he had found someone who listened and believed him. He would do everything to keep Jenny close.

 

“Before you face your fears, you’ll need a talisman,” she said.

“Aye, always use protection, that’s my motto,” Peter said, feeling more like himself now.

“You said you hid under the bed and the vampire didn’t see you, I think we should incorporate something like that in your tattoo. How do you feel about hieroglyphs?”

“Love ‘em.”

Jenny smiled brightly and started drawing. She sketched three separate items and explained their meanings: the Egyptian cross, _Ankh_ , representing life, and what looked like a looped rope, _Sa_ , a symbol of protection, and finally a sarcophagus in lieu of a bed. She played around with these elements, giving them a more edgy style, linking them in different ways.

Peter focused on the sound of the pencil on the thick paper, its smooth strokes and confident lines. Already, he felt safer. She asked for his opinion, but he trusted hers more. The end result was a real work of art. Even if he knew it would hurt, he couldn’t wait to get it inked on his back.

“It’ll have to wait. As I said, both of us have to be sober.”

Peter pouted, but really he was glad because this meant he would see her again.

 

Jenny walked him to the front door. He didn’t want to leave her just yet. They stood under the Jolly Roger flag, barely a foot apart. The noisy street contrasted with the intimate atmosphere he had felt behind the curtains. It made him hesitate to hold her hands again. A hundred pick-up lines ran through his mind. They had worked before, but none seemed good enough for her. He had revealed himself too much to go back to something so superficial.

“Well…”

“So…” She laughed nervously.  

“Is my father still around?” he asked.

“No. I’m sorry, they can never stay down here for long.”

“Funny, cos I thought I’d heard him ask you to go out with me.”

Jenny tilted her head, pretending to hear something. “Oh, I think you’re right. I can’t say no to that.”

“How about dinner?”

“Sure, Herbert.” 

“Oi.”

She smiled mischievously and inched closer to him. “When should we go?”

He pretended to ponder the question, stepping closer as well. He looked down at her, so tempted to close the gap between their lips. She blushed under his intent gaze.

“I think we should go right now,” he answered.

“Sounds good.” She took his hand and laced their fingers. “And maybe over dinner we can discuss how I’ll be marking your body later on.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”


End file.
